


Lovers Dance When They're Feeling in Love.

by kotabear24



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Crying Harry, Daddy Kink, Jealousy, M/M, No Actual Sex Whoops, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kotabear24/pseuds/kotabear24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis gets jealous. Harry gets spanked. Louis falls in love again.</p><p>(Title from 'All About Us' by He Is We ft. Owl City)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovers Dance When They're Feeling in Love.

**Author's Note:**

> (We all know what happened the evening of May 7th.)
> 
> This is for my friend Kasey, who is a lovely, lovely law-writer lady (I don't try to understand; I just look at her in awe) who is finally free from law-related things (again - I don't try to understand; I just give her googly-eyes and love her from afar) and can now relax! So, go congratulate her for being a great person, and then you can read my rushed and thought-heavy cuddling.

Louis rubbed aloe vera onto Harry’s shoulders. The skin there was dry and red and just starting to peel, and irate though Louis may be, he didn’t want Harry to be in pain or discomfort. 

Harry hung his head, allowing Louis to rub the stuff over the back of his neck, since his hair had been up and pulled away at one point to keep him from getting hot in Brazil’s May heat. He didn’t say a word as Louis rubbed the aloe vera in a little rougher than he probably should be doing. 

“Here,” Louis said, handing Harry a grey t-shirt. “Put that on and turn over on your back.”

Harry wordlessly put the shirt on, following directions, and Louis sighed when he saw how pink some of Harry’s face was, despite the hat and sunglasses he’d worn most of the day. “I trust you with Ben for a few hours, and you come back looking like this,” Louis said, his first words on the subject. 

Harry’s lips pulled down into a deeper frown – he’d known, as soon as he came back to the hotel room, that he’d be in trouble, and had been frowning the entire evening – but he didn’t say anything. Louis nodded, vindicated.

Louis rubbed the green lotion over Harry’s face, his skin hot and a little greasy-feeling from the swelling. When he was finished, he sighed even more as he looked down Harry’s legs and saw the burn lines on Harry’s feet from the thongs he’d been wearing on the deck. “Harry, did you even put _anything_ on?” He asked, frustrated.

Harry bit his lip and shook his head, looking ashamed and chastised. Good.

“Well, that’s really stupid of you, love,” Louis said bluntly. “You know it’s bad for your tattoos, right? Do you want them to be blurry and bad-looking when we’re eighty?”

“No,” Harry said defensively. Louis just raised his eyebrow, and Harry deflated. “I’m sorry; I didn’t think about it.”

“Well, you certainly weren’t thinking about hanging all over Ben, either, were you?” Louis muttered, and Harry sighed.

“It’s just _Ben_ ,” Harry started, but Louis talked over him, wanting Harry to know he was upset.

“ _Just_ Ben? You realize that photos with _just Ben_ are making people believe you’re a little gay?” He said. “Not photos with me, your boyfriend. Photos with _Ben_ are doing the trick.”

Louis rubbed lotion into the burned skin of Harry’s feet as Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Are you sorry?” Louis asked him, eyebrows raised enough to let Harry know he should say ‘yes’. 

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry said quietly after a few moments. 

“I think I need to teach you a lesson about how to act when you’re out with other men,” Louis said, his hand already tingling and itching to slap Harry’s skin. 

Harry didn’t even protest; he simply reached down to unbutton his jeans and unzip. Louis reached down to the ankles of the jeans and pulled them off, yanking in short bursts – the best way they’d found to get it to work – until they were off completely, leaving Harry in his pants and t-shirt. 

Harry reached for the t-shirt, but Louis stopped him. “You need to keep that stuff covered, so it doesn’t rub off of your skin,” he said. Harry nodded, so Louis prodded his hip. “Turn over,” he said, and Harry did so calmly, settling on his stomach and chest with only the slightest wince. Louis waited as Harry put a pillow under his chest, tucking his chin over the edge of it so he could press his face into the mattress if Louis wanted him to, and Louis pushed a pillow up under his tummy, to raise his hips up enough that it would be a little difficult for Harry to get friction. 

“I think twenty will be good, don’t you?”

“What?” Harry asked, looking over his shoulder. They’d only done twenty two times – after New Years’ last year, when Harry’d had to kiss Taylor Swift in New York and Louis’d had to stay home, and they’d both needed relief; and when they’d had their first (and only) big fight after stress had gotten too high, and Harry left and went on his (already-planned) trip to L.A. for six days instead of staying home for another day or two to fix things.

“Ten for me, and ten for Meredith, no?” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or don’t you think she deserves at least _some_ kind of mention in your apology? People thinking her husband is cheating on her with some twinky indie-kid popstar, practically fucking each other on the deck of a pool swarmed by paps; you don’t think that would bother her?”

Harry swallowed, but found himself nodding. “You’re right, Daddy,” he said, frowning. “I’m sorry. Twenty is – twenty is fair.”

“Of course it is, princess,” Louis said, rubbing Harry’s bum through his pants. “I want you to count your spankings as far as you can; if you break your record, I might go easy on the last few.” Harry wouldn’t break his record; Louis knew he wouldn’t. Without fail, Harry always started struggling around the ninth spanking, and by the time he got to the fourteenth, he was usually hard to get so much as a whimper from, much less a loud, clear number.

With that, Louis squeezed Harry’s cheeks hard enough to make Harry tense up for a moment, and then started rubbing them hard enough to get a little friction on his skin from the pants. He didn’t want to hurt Harry; it was best to warm him up.

Finally, with one swing, Louis started off the countdown. The first spanking made Harry jump, his cheeks clenching in surprise before he made himself relax, and Louis wished it wouldn’t hurt Harry to go straight to bare skin-to-skin, because he’d love to see the way Harry’s pale skin would’ve reacted to the first swat. Harry’s skin was far too sensitive, though, and it wouldn’t be worth it to hurt his boy. 

“One,” Harry sounded out obediently. 

Louis held on to the “Good boy” he wanted to give, because it was instinctive, rather than deserved; Harry hadn’t earned praise yet.

He let his hand swing forward and hit the same cheek, not wanting Harry to think for a single second that he would make it easy on him. His pert little bum was warm under his hand, a bit, and jiggled under the impact. 

“Two,” Harry said, his chin tucked tightly against the pillow and hands holding onto its corners tightly. 

“Three,” he called out when Louis smacked his left cheek for the first time.

Louis squeezed his cheeks again hard, making Harry tense up once again, and Louis swatted him twice, once on each cheek to hear Harry’s slow counting of, “Four, five.” 

Louis pulled down Harry’s pants, then, seeing Harry’s bum, slightly pink from the first five smacks. Louis rubbed the cheeks a little, watching Harry fight to stay still and not seek out the touch, like he normally did, and Louis smacked his left cheek for the third time, the sound of skin-to-skin contact having more effect on Harry than the actual contact, at this point. Harry jumped and let out a tiny little yelp, breathing a little heavy. 

“S-six,” he said, and Louis heard him swallow heavily.

“Keep counting loud,” Louis reminded him as he swatted again.

“Seven,” Harry said loudly, sadness in his voice, and Louis knew it was finally getting to Harry, that he’d upset Louis in the first place. 

Louis swatted him three times in quick succession, all on the right cheek, and it had Harry crying out in pain. 

“Count,” Louis reminded him calmly, rubbing over the skin to make it tingle uncomfortably for Harry as a motivator. 

“Eight,” Harry said. “Nine. …Ten.” There was definite strain in Harry’s voice by then, and Louis nodded in satisfaction, rubbing his lower back, where there wasn’t much burn. “Halfway done,” he told Harry, to remind him to keep being strong. Sometimes, Harry needed that reminder, when he was being punished. He internalized punishment pretty hard – more than Louis ever had, as a kid – and Louis needed to remind him sometimes that there was an end in sight, or he’d go so far down that Louis would worry about him properly _dropping_.

Harry let out a little whimper and a nod so small Louis only picked it up because he knew to look for it, and Louis rubbed his left cheek as an indulgent hint. “Who was that for?” He asked Harry. 

“Meredith,” Harry whined, and Louis nodded, even though he knew Harry couldn’t see it. 

“And who are these next ten for?”

“You,” Harry answered, looking over his shoulder with tears already in his eyes. Louis raised his eyebrows and rubbed Harry’s left cheek, letting Harry know he was giving it to the mostly-neglected cheek.

Louis smacked it, though, and Harry cried out. “Eleven,” he said shakily, and Louis immediately slapped him again. “Twelve,” he nearly whispered, and started crying. Louis shushed him quietly, even though he didn’t really mind Harry crying, and spanked him again, harder than he had yet. Harry was sobbing too hard to get enough breath, though, so Louis pinched his cheek, just a tiny bit to get his attention. “Ow!” Harry cried out with a few little sobs, rubbing his face furiously, trying to wipe his eyes. “Twelve,” he tried, but Louis tutted at him and pinched the outside of his thigh. “Thirteen,” Harry corrected himself, and pushed his face into his pillow when Louis spanked him hard again. 

Louis heard Harry cry out wordlessly into the mattress, shaking. “Are you going to count?” He asked, and heard what _could_ have been ‘fourteen’, but might not be, so Louis just ignored it and spanked him another time, hard like the last two. Once again, Harry cried out wordlessly, and Louis sighed, like he was irritated, even though he was really just amazed, as always, that Harry trusted him enough. Louis’ hand was itching and stinging. “I guess _I_ have to do it,” he said, “so for your information, that was _fifteen_.”

Louis slapped him again, another hard one, as he called out, “Sixteen!” and slapped his other cheek hard. “Seventeen!” 

“Eighteen!” He called out again, Harry sobbing quietly into the mattress. He’d moved his head, though, so he could breathe easily and Louis could see half his face. Tears ran own his skin and his face screwed up every time Louis spanked him, and when he felt eighteen’s spank, he tried to squirm away and covered his face with his hands, sobbing into them. “Two more, Harry,” Louis said, placing his hand onto Harry’s tailbone and rubbing it, where the skin wasn’t red. “Two more.”

Louis made these last two much softer than the five before, like he usually did, but Harry still cried quietly into his hands. When Louis called out, “Twenty,” Harry immediately curled into himself, flopping onto his side and cried in earnest. 

Louis reached into their bag and pulled out the lotion, pulling Harry over onto his belly again and rubbing his tailbone for a second when Harry started crying harder. “All done, love; all done,” he said soothingly, and draped a healthy amount onto Harry’s red skin. “Count down, three, two, one,” he said, and placed a hand over the hot sin to rub the lotion over it. Harry let out a whine with his next load of tears, and Louis murmured sweet things to him. 

When he was done, he pulled Harry’s pants all the way off his legs and sat down on the bed next to him. Harry immediately sobbed, “Daddy!” and moved around, so Louis helped Harry crawl on top of him, so that they were laying chest to chest while Harry cried onto Louis’ shoulder. “Daddy, I’m so sorry,” he moaned through his tears, and Louis kissed the top of his hair repeatedly, smoothing hair from Harry’s face and rubbing his sides and thighs. 

“You’re so forgiven, baby, I love you so much,” Louis promised, and laced his fingers through one hand of Harry’s. “I forgive you; I love you forever. You can keep crying, if you want, baby; we’re okay. You can cry. I love you; I’m right here. I’m always going to be right here.”

Harry sniffled against Louis’ chest, wiggling around to get comfortable, and Louis kept his routine, pattern-like motions that Harry found so comforting, thinking about the photos of Harry cuddling up to Ben at the hotel pool the day before. Maybe Ben could have that, could have Harry like that, even though they were nothing more than friends, but nobody – nobody else in the entire world – would ever get Harry like _this_ , shaking and crying after falling apart and displaying such an insane amount of trust in a single person. Nobody else would ever get that love from Harry; Louis was sure of it, and it was the best feeling ever. 

Louis lay in the hotel bed, Harry on top of him and trying to calm down, just thinking about how much love he had for Harry, and how much love Harry showed him and gave to him every second of every day, and he couldn’t believe it. He didn’t need to be jealous. Typical human emotion though it may be, Louis was never afraid Harry would leave him; he was just jealous that other people got to be with Harry in ways he didn’t – and wouldn’t, for quite a while. It sucked, was all. And it wasn’t as if they wanted to suddenly start flirting over twitter, or make out in a public place, or anything; Louis would just like to be able to take a fan photo next to his boyfriend, instead of having at least one or two people between them all the time. 

Eventually, the absence of hot breath coming in short bursts against Louis’ neck told him Harry was calming down, finally, and Louis looked down, bending his neck at what was surely a very unflattering view for Harry, but Harry was looking up at Louis with wide eyes looking amazed, anyway. 

“Hi, sunshine,” Louis said softly. Harry blinked slowly up at him and then smiled, slow like his thoughts and emotions were being dragged through molasses before they got to his brain. 

“Hi, Daddy,” Harry said finally. 

Before Louis said anything to him, he felt Harry’s hand squeeze his cock, still hard. Louis’ mouth fell open, just a bit, and he swallowed and then said, “Not right now, baby.” Harry whined a bit, just in the back of his throat, and Louis pulled him up for a kiss. “Tonight, okay? Daddy wants a cuddle with his favorite boy right now.”

Harry’s frown slowly disappeared once he registered that, so he rolled off Louis and scooted close to him, no longer on top of Louis but plastered skin-to-skin in what Louis certainly felt was a fair trade-off. Harry hummed as he kissed Louis’ jawline, sloppy little kisses that didn’t have much effort put into them to make them nice and neat or even sexy. 

This was Louis’ very favorite part of Harry in the world, because there was no façade or effort, only raw Harry. He wasn’t trying to be sexy, or ‘famous’ Harry, or indie-hipster Harry that his friends knew, or even the Harry that the other boys in the band knew. He wasn’t trying to be anything – he just _was_. This was, like, Harry untamed, or something, and it was so basic and unthinking that the only way to see Harry like this was to shove him down in subspace and let him recover on his own time, which they didn’t often have time to fully do. 

This afternoon, though, Louis had been so pissed that he’d warned everyone against so much as thinking about knocking on their door, and they had the whole night and a few hours in the morning. 

“We should go to that Jesus statue-thing tomorrow,” Louis suggested once Harry’s sweet, sloppy kisses stopped. Since the aloe-stained shirt was on Harry’s torso, and Harry’s arse was red and sore, there wasn’t really anywhere to put his hands other than Harry’s curls, which he massaged through as Harry floated around.

Harry tucked his face into Louis’ neck and inhaled deep, his entire body just relaxing further and further into Louis. “Okay, Daddy,” he said agreeably. 

And, really, there was more Louis wanted to say, but Harry probably wouldn’t even remember much of it, so he started talking about inane things, just random things he thought about, letting Harry hear his voice and feel him near, for a while. They used to do that all the time – just talk, saying random things on their mind; it used to be a sort of game to them, to see who could come up with the most ridiculous things to talk about – but they didn’t often have the time or energy when they were alone in their beds, anymore. Well, and when they did have energy, they usually spent it having sex in some form or other. 

So, Louis started talking, and just kept on, getting minimal feedback from Harry, but he knew he was listening. He talked for nearly half an hour with Harry plastered to his side, arms around him tight and his lips and nose pressed against Louis’ throat until Harry’s breathing evened out into a soft snore that drove Louis crazy on nights he had trouble getting to sleep. 

Now, though, Louis only smiled and kissed Harry’s head, settling himself in bed and mentally preparing himself to wake up in a few hours to get Harry some juice and find himself slathered in gooey-feeling aloe vera for a sunburn he didn’t even get.


End file.
